Helen’s POV

Warmth.

That was the first thing I felt.

Soft sheets wrapped around me like a quiet embrace, the faint scent of something rich and unfamiliar lingering in the air. It wasn’t my room. It couldn’t be. My bed had never felt like this....this soft, this… expensive.

My eyes fluttered open slowly, my head heavy, my thoughts sluggish as if they were still trying to catch up with reality.

For a moment, I just stared at the ceiling.

White. Smooth. Elegant.

Ohh.... I'm in Troy's house, buh this isn't my room?.

My heart skipped.

I sat up abruptly, the blanket sliding down my body as panic crept in. My eyes darted around the room, taking in the wide space, the glass windows, the dark wooden furniture, the faint golden light spilling in from the curtains.

This wasn’t my bedroom.

This was—

My breath hitched.

Troy’s room.

“Oh my God…” I whispered under my breath, my pulse quickening.

What was I doing here?

I tried to remember. The dinner… Ben Fane… the tension… the champagne… Troy’s voice… his arms…

Everything blurred together like a broken film reel.

Then something caught my eye.

I froze.

Standing by the window, his back slightly turned to me, was Troy.

Shirtless.

My breath caught in my throat.

For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

The early morning light fell across his body, highlighting every line, every muscle like it had been carved with intention. His shoulders were broad, his back defined, his waist tapering into the low-hanging trousers he wore.

He looked… unreal.

Dangerous.

Perfect in a way that didn’t feel fair.

My eyes traced him without permission, moving slowly, curiously, like I was trying to memorize something I had no right to admire.

And then...

“Take a picture.”

His voice cut through the silence like a blade.

I jumped.

My heart slammed against my chest as I jerked back to reality, my face heating instantly.

“I—I wasn’t—!” I stammered, looking anywhere but at him.

He turned then, slowly, his sharp grey eyes locking onto mine.

One corner of his lips lifted slightly.

“If you’re going to stare that hard,” he said calmly, “you might as well make it permanent.”

My cheeks burned.

“I wasn’t staring!” I snapped quickly, even though we both knew I was lying.

His brow lifted slightly, unimpressed.

“Right.”

I swallowed, trying to regain my composure. “Why… why am I here?”

That question came out more nervous than I intended.

His expression didn’t change much. “You passed out....in my arms”

I blinked. “Passed out?....in your arms”

“You drank more champagne than you could handle,” he said, walking casually toward a chair and picking up a shirt. “And after everything that happened last night, your body gave up on you.”

I frowned slightly, trying to piece it together.

“That still doesn’t explain why I’m in your room.”

“ I carried you here,” he replied simply. “I wanted to see that look on your face.”

Something about that answer made my stomach twist.

I looked down at myself.

And froze.

My hands immediately moved to my body, my breath catching in my throat.

I wasn’t wearing the dress from last night.

I was in a nightie.

A soft, thin one that clung lightly to my skin.

My heart dropped.

“What—?!” I gasped, panic rising instantly. “My clothes—!”

I looked up at him, fear flashing in my eyes. “Did you—?”

The question hung in the air, unfinished but obvious.

His gaze hardened slightly.

“I didn't touch.”

I hesitated.

“But—”

“If I wanted too, I would have done that.” he interrupted, his tone calm but firm. “One of the maids changed you.”

I blinked.

"Not you?”

“Yes.”

My shoulders slowly relaxed, but not completely.

Still, embarrassment crept in.

“I didn’t even wake up…” I muttered, more to myself than to him.

He let out a short breath, almost like a quiet scoff.

“You were out cold,” he said. “You didn’t just sleep. You snored.”

My eyes widened.

“I did not!”

“You did.”

“That’s a lie!”

“It’s not.”

I stared at him, horrified. “Oh my God…”

He shrugged slightly, already putting on his shirt like the conversation didn’t matter.

I sank back onto the bed, covering my face for a second.

“Kill me now,” I mumbled.

For a brief moment, I thought I saw amusement flicker across his face.

Then it was gone.

“Breakfast is ready,” he said, adjusting his cuffs. “You should eat.”

I lowered my hands slowly, still trying to recover from the embarrassment. “I’m not hungry.”

“You will eat,” he replied flatly.

I frowned. “Why do you always sound like you’re giving orders?”

“Because I am.”

I rolled my eyes slightly, but before I could say anything else, he added—

“Your mother’s surgery is today.”

Everything inside me stilled.

“What?”

His gaze met mine, steady.

“The arrangements have been made. The doctors are ready. You should go to the hospital later.”

My heart skipped.

“Today…?” I whispered.

He nodded once.

Emotion rushed through me so quickly it almost made me dizzy.

Relief. Fear. Hope.

Tears stung my eyes before I could stop them.

“She’s… she’s really going to be okay?” I asked softly.

“That depends on the doctors,” he said, his tone blunt, like he didn't care. “But everything that can be done is being done.”

I swallowed hard.

For a moment, I didn’t know what to say.

Then, quietly—

“Thank you.”

The words came from somewhere deep inside me.

He looked at me.

And just like that—

The warmth disappeared.

“A deal is a deal,” he said coldly.

The words hit harder than I expected.

Like a reminder.

Like a line being drawn.

My chest tightened slightly.

“Oh,” I said softly.

Of course.

This wasn’t kindness.

This wasn’t care.

This was business.

I forced a small nod. “Right.”

Without another word, he turned and walked toward a door at the corner of the room.

I hadn’t even noticed it before.

He opened it and stepped inside.

“Aren’t you coming for breakfast?” I asked, almost without thinking.

“I have work.”

And then...

The door closed.

Just like that.

I stared at it for a few seconds, the silence settling heavily around me.

Something inside me felt… off.

I didn’t like how easily he switched.

One moment, he was teasing me.

The next....

Cold. Distant. Untouchable.

I hugged my knees slightly, exhaling slowly.

“Why do I even care?” I muttered under my breath.

This was an agreement.

Nothing more.

I knew that.

I reminded myself of that.

Still…

I looked down at my hands.

“They’re doing the surgery today,” I whispered.

A small smile formed on my lips despite everything.

“That’s all that matters.”

Right?

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself.

“Focus, Helen,” I said quietly. “This is what you wanted.”

And yet…

As I glanced once more at the closed door....

I couldn’t ignore the small, stubborn feeling in my chest.

Troy’s POV

The moment I stepped into my study, I shut the door behind me.

Silence.

Finally.

I exhaled slowly, loosening my cuffs.

Why was she looking at me like that?

I walked toward my desk, but my thoughts stayed behind.

With her.

Helen.

The way she had stared…

Curious. Innocent. Unaware of how obvious she was.

A faint smirk tugged at my lips before I shook it off.

Focus.

This wasn’t important.

None of this was.

I picked up a file, flipping it open, but the words blurred together.

Instead, I saw her again—

Panicked.

Checking herself.

Afraid I had touched her.

My jaw tightened.

“I didn’t touch you.”

The words echoed in my mind.

Why did I even feel the need to explain?

Why did it matter what she thought?

I closed the file.

Because she’s not like the others.

The thought came uninvited.

Annoying.

Unnecessary.

True.

I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling.

She believed me.

I had seen it in her eyes.

That quiet trust.

Dangerous.

I ran a hand through my hair.

“This is exactly why I don’t mix business with emotions,” I muttered.

She was a contract.

Nothing more.

And yet...

She said thank you.

Not like someone who was forced into a deal.

But like someone who meant it.

And I....

I shut her down.

“A deal is a deal.”

My expression hardened.

Good.

That was how it should be.

Clear lines.

No confusion.

No attachments.

Still…

I couldn’t ignore the way her face had fallen.

Just for a second.

Before she covered it up.

I sighed quietly.

“This is temporary,” I reminded myself. “Everything about this is temporary.”

Her mother’s surgery would be done.

The contract would run its course.

And then—

She would leave.

Simple.

Clean.

Necessary.

I reached for another file, forcing myself to focus this time.

But just before I buried myself in work—

A thought slipped through.

Unwanted.

Persistent.

She looked good this morning.

I paused.

Then scoffed under my breath.

“Ridiculous.”

And yet…

I couldn’t quite push the image away.